Lone Edge
by BlackCavern
Summary: Fire Emblem:Shadow Dragon from Navarre's point of view
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Fire Emblem

* * *

A swordsmen's cold steel-gray eyes swept the craggy peaks of Samsooth Mountains, more commonly known as the Ghoul's Teeth.

There was not much to see, just cold gray stone. His vision was starting to haze from lack of movement or blinking when out of the blue there was a scream: "Traitor! That stinkin' Julian ran off with the cleric!"

The swordsman turned sharply coming as close to startled as he could manage. That was the cue, the Samsooth Sires flooded out of the fortress.

The swordsman followed more slowly, casually observing his surroundings. If there was an attack there would be plenty of screaming bandits to warn him. A brawny bandit barrel towards him shoving co plunderers left and right like shoving through a wheat field.

"You, Crimson Edge, it's time to earn your keep. Go catch that traitor and the cleric!" he roared. The swordsman known as the Crimson Edge didn't so much as blink before vanishing like smoke into the dark rocky passes.

The Crimson Edge was a shadow on the wall as he peered over the edge of the pass. He could see two figures in a cloak and a cleric's robes. The thief called Julian was as good as dead but the cleric...would be a problem. _I don't kill women_ he mentally promised to himself.

He swiftly and silently sped after the duo but neatly stopped when he heard other footsteps. One, two, no, dozens and dozens of people, here in the Ghoul's Teeth?

From his high vantage point on one of the rockier hills that lined the Teeth he could see a blue caped figure flanked by two cavaliers and an old paladin. After them came three fighters with axes swung over their shoulders. Then there was a girl riding on a pegasus, a noble without a doubt judging on her gold trimmed armor. The man that was next to her made the Crimson Flash grit his teeth.

There was no mistaking it, it was difficult for any mercenary to not recognize the brawny form of the mercenary leader Ogma.

Before he could so much as take a step there was the thundering of feet on the hard stone floor. The swordsman hissed between his teeth, his employer must've gotten impatient and sent his bandits depriving the Crimson Flash of his advantage of silence.

Sighing he decided to go with the flow. Slipping out his sword with silent and practiced ease he shot forward like lightning, taking advantage of the high terrain he was on.

_This is bad, are those two trying to join up with the band of nobles?_ His memory suddenly became clear, he had heard the Samsooth Sires muttering something about the knights of Altea coming. He had dismissed it as impossible, why would a band of snooty nobles come here? But it looked like it was true, he had to stop them now or never.

His Killing Edge was seconds away from slicing open the thief Julian's back when a flurry of white feathers nearly collided with him. Eyes blazing with rage he was just on the verge of slicing the pegasus and it's rider in half, temporarly forgetting that pegasi only accepted women as their riders.

His already blazing eyes widened even more when the blue haired girl hopped off her pegasus and hefted her lance aside. "Navarre!" she screamed, the high pitched scream made his ears ache but it was barely felt with the shock of his name. Few people knew the Crimson Flash as Navarre and the surprise made him freeze for a moment.

"Navarre! Since when does a swordsman of your caliber fall in with thieves and cutthroats?!" she yelled. If there was any such lightness in him Navarre could have laughed at the innocence in her voice and on her face. Such people don't belong on the battle field.

"What? Fly away girl before someone decides to swat you." he snapped harshly, he didn't kill women but nothing said that he wasn't rude to them, nobles or not.

The girl's liquid blue eyes started, "Please Navarre, why fight for nothing when you could fight for something? Lend your sword to our cause, or if you won't then strike me down now!" she pleaded

Navarre's jaw would've dropped if he didn't have perfect control of his expressions. _What kind of person goes running up to an enemy and plead with them to join?! Tch, well what do you expect out of pampered nobles who are use to everyone obeying? _But what could he do? Kill her now? It was a tempting idea but he couldn't do it

With a deep sigh he finally spoke up, he was surprised how monotone and raspy it sounded from disuse. "No, I don't kill women. You win, I'll join you." He turned away fists clenched from anger. The girl didn't seem to notice as she put on a broad smile, she happily said something that might have been a thank you if Navarre had been paying attention. The only part he heard was "I'm Caeda, Princess of Talis." He could've cared less.

Taking a firmer grip on his sword he swerved around to face his former employers unfazed. This wasn't the first time he had swapped sides on a moment's notice. An easy traitor like any other mercenary.

In a blur he swung his sword at the first bandit he saw, not even bothering to look at his handiwork he passed on to the next opponent. He never had to look, the Crimson Flash never made a mistake.

Navarre parried an axe, baring his teeth at the pressure on his wrist. In a flash he slipped his sword out and thrust the sword forward.

A minute, a hour...he lost track of time in his intense concentration that he entered when ever he swung a sword. Sometime in all the chaos his Killing Edge glanced off a Rapier. He turned swiftly but managed to stop himself in time when he spotted a flash of a blue cape.

The caped noble he had first seen. Probably a noble of Altea.... "Uh...aren't you...?" the noble started looking a bit nervous. "Navarre" was the monotone voice that finished. "The great swordsman the villagers mentioned...does this mean you will fight with us?" the hopefulness in his voice was a mirror image of the pegasus knight Princess Caeda's. _Well duh, what else would I be doing? _He decided to answer anyway, "Yes, you only have to name your target." with that he left like fog.

He wasn't sure when the battle ended, he just knew that it ended when everone stopped branishing their weapons. The Killing Edge automatically went back in it's sheath.

Steel eyes flickered looking at the mountain pass now filled with soldiers. Now that everything was quieted down there was quite a few eyes on the stranger: him. Some eyes were friendly like Princess Caeda's and Ogma's. Others were merely wary like with the archer and the red and green cavaliers. Navarre couldn't help noticing how red one was and how green the other one was regardless of how stupid the thought sounded. Other gazes were just plain distrusting like with the old paladin and the fighters.

He didn't miss the cold tensness in Julian's eyes and the strangely calm forgivingness in the cleric's.

Navarre looked away, it was probably his time to leave now, his job was done. He had only taken one step when he heard a "Hey, swordsman" behind him. Turning around slowly he realized that Ogma was behind him.

"You, your the Crimson Flash Navarre eh? It's an honor, since your traveling with us now I hope to spar some times." Ogma held out his hand. Navarre tentively shook it, one shake and then he drew back his hand. He hadn't counted on staying for much longer but he had said to the Princess that he'd join. No taking words back now....

Navarre looked over the tall craggy peaks

_Just another job...just another job_

_

* * *

_Please Read and Review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem

Navarre gritted his teeth as he looked around, there really wasn't much to see as the night was pitch dark. Even his keen sharp eyes couldn't see past three feet in front of him. His foul mood hasn't laid off since he got dragged into Altea's war. Or rather Talys' war since there really was no more Altea.

"Hey you, swordsman!" Apparently 'swordsman' was now his new name. He whipped around almost violently to find the red cavalier waving him over. Navarre paced over warily, he noted the green cavalier and the old paladin with a sharp glance. _Looks like this army comes in trios._

"What do you want?" he monotoned, his voice still sounded quite rough from a seemingly endless time of silence. "Just your name Sunshine." the red cavalier sneered with feigned hurt.

_Well that was a basic summing up of last night's encounters...I wont deny that I regret my actions the day before...._

Green grass waving in the breeze like a grassy ocean, as far as the eye can see. It should've been a beautiful, peaceful landscape. _The beauty is worthless with that monster of a castle. _Time away from society has brought Navarre a sense of nature's beauty, man made structures seem to now be a blemish on the face of the earth. The overwhelming, dark bulk of the castle that just happen to be stapled down in the middle of the lea was emphasized by horseman and foot soldiers alike. They were scattered about like the farmer sows his grain.

Navarre adjusted his grip on his Iron Sword irritably, Prince Marth just had to position the bulk of the forces together. Classic military position, projectiles in the back, foot soldiers up front, mounted units on the sides: Frontal Assault, reckless yet effective if you have the superior force. Which Prince Marth doesn't.

As the small army walked almost leisurely forward on the lea the forms of enemy soldiers solidified. Navarre spotted an enemy thief just ahead, he tensed himself for confrontation but relaxed as the archer (Gordin as people called him) leaped forward and shot an arrow at the thief.

It connected but you don't get hit with an arrow without noticing. The thief turned on his heel and bolted down the lea before Gordin could shoot again. _An archer that leaps out in front, what brave amateurs. _Navarre wasted no time this time in rushing forward. In a blink of an eye it was over, the thief or rather the carcass was on the ground almost sliced in two.

It should've been a pleasingly easy kill but Navarre gritted his teeth. He broke rank, he'll have to remember not to do that. It was a difficult change to make considering that your career was mostly one-man jobs.

No matter, cavaliers and axemen alike were rushing past him towards the enemy cavaliers. _Am I the only one who notices that small group of the right trying to flank us?! _Navarre was almost bowled over by the green cavalier or Abel who galloped off at full speed his lance aimed at one of the archers. Shrugging his shoulders Navarre followed in a slightly less erratic manner.

He parried with one of the enemy soldiers giving the man a vicious slash to the leg that sent the unlucky soldier pummeling to the ground. Navarre turned away to face an archer that he was closing in on. _That soldier's not going anywhere, I'll finish him off later._

True to his word, after the archer was slashed up to pieces Navarre finished off the soldier.

After Navarre and Abel managed to catch up with the main army from their little detour, the enemy cavaliers were all but gone.

He automatically sidestepped narrowly avoiding a very precisely aimed arrow. Looking up he spotted a handful of horsemen. _Tch, Dolhr and it's alliances must be pretty skittish if they're sending horsemen to meet a rag-tagged army like this. _

Navarre did an uppercut with his sword dangerously close to the horse's eyes. The mare reared throwing her rider about. Taking the opportunity he drove his Iron Sword into the man's torso. Then came the all too familiar snapping sound. Hissing with impatience Navarre threw down the now broken Iron Sword and reached for his Killing Edge. Hopefully that won't be going soon....

Looking up Navarre was startled by how close the large bulk of rock was now. He hadn't taken the time or effort to keep track on how close the army was getting to the castle. There was a single cavalier stationed at the small entrance.

He slashed at the cavaliers reins but missed by mere inches. "You can defy us but you will never beat us!" the cavalier roared (who's name happened to be Bentheon). He swung his Ridersbane in a sharp arch, his horse rearing in the process. Navarre quickly leaped backwards but the lance caught him on the fingers as he was pulling his free arm back. Blood spurted out of a ragged cut across all four fingers and thumb.

Pulling his injured hand back against his chest Navarre went at Bentheon in a flying slash. Only later would he realize his mistake of letting his temper take over. The horse fell and the rider fell in a dusty heap. Navarre pulled his Killing Edge out of the man's shoulder and examined the segregated edges. It'll need to be replaced soon.

He stayed outside with a handful of other soldiers as the remainder of the army went into the castle, he spent that time patching up his hand. (Lena and a bald curate named Rhys had offered to help but he just flatly refused.) Waiting for Prince Marth to finish storming the castle he started wiping down his remaining sword.

_Horse blood...so much horse blood...._

Please Read and Review


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem

A sharp band of silver flashed in the afternoon sun sending winks of light and sharp pinging sounds into the air.

Navarre dropped on the ground and swung on his knees. Captain Ogma neatly jumped backwards but he was slowed down enough so that Navarre could leap to his feet and land a stinging blow to the larger man's shoulder. With that flat of the sword of course but in a real battle, Captain Ogma would've been dead by now...but then again so would the Crimson Edge who just managed to dodge a sledgehammer blow to the head.

"Okay, okay! Let's stop now, save some energy for the real war eh?" Ogma laughed panting. Navarre's expression remained as grim as ever as he pushed his long, brown hair out of his eyes, with the powerful lea wind blowing around mere seeing was a challenge. _Amazing what you can forget when you're sword fighting._

With that Navarre picked up his sword and walked away without so much as a "good fight". He leaned against a tree further into the ever rockier terrain. Prince Marth had called on the group to take a short break after a few of the foot units started falling behind from the rough mountainous terrain. And what does he spend it doing? Sparring against the strongest(possibly) mercenary in Archanea.

Navarre wasn't a paticularly modest man, it just was that he didn't talk much. Whether his reason for the instinctive rivalry against Captain Ogma was because he wanted to know where he stood with the infamous mercenary, he didn't know. He wouldn't be satisfied with a tie the next time.

"Hey come on Navarre! We're moving!" someone yelled in the distance. Fatigue was starting to set into his muscles from the intense battle(it was far to vicious to call a spar). It created a strange feeling like after a long day of swimming, all you want to do afterwards is sleep. The thought of swimming brought a faint memory of a small fish pond into the swordsman's head. He shook it off, ignoring his tired body he sped up his pace to catch up with the rest of the army.

Navarre walked up behind a small mage in blue robes who was lingering towards the back. "Where are we going?" he asked in his typical quiet monotone. The blue mage jumped a little at the sudden noise but his voice was surprisingly friendly. "Well from what Prince Marth said we're heading to Aurelis to meet up with potential allies." Navarre gave a brief nod and left to walk alone again.

_Nobles, so naive to believe that friends stay friends in a war, it's safer to have none._

After about an hour of walking on upwards sloping ground the light weariness that gripped Navarre had turned into a deep ache that decided to settle intself in his knees. Spending so much time in the Samsooth Mountains he should've been able to scale up to Aurelis in his sleep. _Yet another poor choice on my part...._

Aurelis wasn't too impressive on the eyes. A village over younder, grass, a small river, a few mountain peaks scattered here and there.

"Grust's deployed it's soldiers all over Castle Aurelis' field, and there are mages to the north!" Princess Caeda reported after a lengthy scouting mission.

"Caeda you take the peaks at the north west and seize the fortress behind the mountains. Merric you take the mages Caeda talked about. The rest of you, come with me to join forces with Captain Hardin" Prince Marth was cut off by a very startled Merric. "Wait, by myself?!" Prince Marth smiled teasingly at his friend's panic, "No not by yourself, Navarre, you secure the village and then help Merric out." Navarre just gave a hollow grunt to indicate that he heard his orders.

As if some invisible message was given all units started heading out to their assigned positions. Navarre hung back for a minute surveying the landscape before he made a move. "Hey swordsman, get a move on, you heard Prince Marth's orders!" a brown haired axeman yelled at him.

"_Don't order m__e._" Those words weren't spoken very loud but the menace could've been heard miles away. Gray eyes glared, shadowed by strands of dark hair. Navarre silently gripped the handle of his Steel Sword (which Prince Marth had thoughtfully given him after the Iron Sword broke), he was on the verge of turning the axeman into a corpse the man hurried off to his position.

He lowered his raised sword and walked the short way off to the village.

Thieves have gotten to the village by the time Navarre got there. It was just a tiny village by the look of it and the rough cobblestone streets were barren though he did spot a few poorly hidden villagers through the windows. He spotted a flicker of the red of a Grustian uniform out of the corner of his eye. Navarre's boots made no noise even on the hard stone road-from long practice-as he slowly crept up on the thief.

He waited until the thief stopped peering into the windows and started walking again. Navarre tensed, then lunged forward bringing down his Steel Sword in a narrow downward arch. The weight of the heavy Steel Sword strained his wrists but masters of the sword do not make mistakes. He didn't look at the corpse he had just created, the crushing of the spine had resonated up the length of the sword, he didn't need to check.

After giving the village a satisfying sweep and killing off another theif Navarre headed out to assist Pontifex Merric. As he was walking through the gates something caught his eye, he swept it up off the road and turned it over in his hand. A round red sphere, it could've been made of glass. Navarre threw it against the iron gates but the sphere just bounced off without shattering, on closer examination it didn't have a single scratch on it. _Mana...manakete stone? _He had heard it out of a story book someone had read to him a long time ago, the time when he was a small child seemed like worlds away.

He couldn't remember what they did so he just slipped the small stone into his jacket and walked off.

The grass was on fire from Merric and the enemy mages exchanging flames conjoured up from orange covered books. The green haired mage seemed to be handling the enemy-no less then five feet in front of him-with ease so Navarre focused on another mage that was was coming up from the left.

He quickly side-step dodged a blast of fire that came so close he could feel the heat on his face. _Magic...it should be the perfect weapon that no swordsman can parry but.... _Taking the brief pause that followed the attack Navarre flipped the sword in his hand and thrusted forward skewering the mage clean through. He then rotated the sword sharply to finish the job before drawing his weapon out.

Being seperated from the main group Navarre couldn't see a thing with the mountains in his way. But the strong winds brought the faint sound of horse hooves and the clash of lances. It was a long walk across the grass field to rejoin the forces. He managed to catch his breath and the tormenting ache left his body with time.

When Navarre closed in on the defensive castle he was faced with an onslaught of reinforcement pegasus knights. _Macedon's winged ponies, regal types, never the full story huh? How insolent, leave war to the warriors_

Throwing his annoyance towards the generals of the army Navarre turned his attention back to the battle. A pegasus knight dive bombed downward using the force of her fall to power her lance. "Dodge!" someone yelled, Navarre swerved to the side, the tip of his sword grazing against the side of the winged horse.

An arrow shot by striking the pegasus knight sending the rider and mount tumbling out of flight. The shot came from a purple haired horseman, a new recruit, Captain Hardin's cavaliers aparently.

Another horseman and Gordin went after the fortress and sent a shower of arrows towards the pegasus knights. Macedon's prince Michalis will regret his decision today.

A pink haired cavalier vaguely resembling the cleric Lena came galloping up to him. "Uh...Prince Marth told me to give you this and to tell you to go after the gate...so here!" he tossed Navarre a notched sword and with that the cavalier took off like dracoknights were chasing him. There's a strong possibility that stereotypes of his temper had come up from his scrap with the axeman.

_Tch, perhaps now people will get the idea that I don't want them around. _Navarre examined the sword he was given. An Armorslayer...he had plenty of experience fighting knights because nobles like to hire mercenaries to kill other nobles. An Armorslayer should do the job

A hefty armored knight stood at the gate, his armor was so broad that his frame filled the entire doorway. Navarre was about to turn the man into scrap metal when a white feather falling from above made him look up. Princess Caeda gave a quick wave and geasured towards the gate with her lance.

Navarre just assumed that she wanted the kill, the fact that in reality Princess Caeda was a near pacifist would have to wait until after the battle.

He swung at the Macedon knight aiming for the crease between two pieces of armor at the arm. Macedon's Sir Merach however was no over confident beginner, a Silver Lance came thrusting forward barely fazed by the blow form Navarre's Armorslayer.

Navarre stumbled backwards quickly regaining his step and his composture from the surprise, the tip of the lance was inches from his face. With that the Crimson Edge lunged forward with sword aimed for the neck, a death blow.

But at the last minute he changed his mind and turned the neck blow into a hilt punch, a sledgehammer blow to the face with the hilt of the sword. The feigning of the cut to the neck worked and the heavy hilt of the Armorslayer slammed into the weakest part of Merach's armor: the front of the helmet.

Satisfied to see his enemy stunned Navarre drew back, this time keeping his previously injured hand resting against his collarbone.

As soon as he retreated Caeda swooped in and her Wing Spear quickly finished off the knight.

Strangely enough the inside of Castle Aurelis wasn't damaged at all and the king managed to escape intact. _And where were the guards in the castle?_

That evening Navarre got caught up on the talk between King Aurelis, Captain Hardin, Prince Marth and the princess of Archanea who was here for some reason. Supposively Princess Nyna Archanea came to Hardin's side to petition for the Aurelian people's support in fighting the war. But once Macedon's troops came their hope of surviving was as good as gone until Altea...or Talys showed up. It didn't make Navarre think any better of nobles from the fact that the military leaders of Aurelis decided to fight a war they would lose.

"Hey Navarre." a deep voice came from behind him. Navarre turned naround, he was hardly surprised to see the brawny form of Ogma behind him. "What do you want?" he asked darkly. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to tolerate people if their on your side." Ogma was clearly refering to the axeman. "Toleration for comrades is the fact that I left them alive for the time being." some of the cold menace crept back into Navarre's voice, a cold rage that gathered in him whenever being quested about his morality.

"Look kid, are you mentally scarred or were you born this way?" Ogma's voice had hardened too but still held it's humorous edge. "Neither, I learn through experience." Navarre answered his voice barely audible. Ogma laugh was like thunder, "Experience?! You'll have to wait a few more years before you can call anything you've learned experience!" He was cut off by Navarre's Killing Edge which was pointed at his throat. "I'm kidding, loosen up will you? Uptight kids tend to die early." Ogma joked without a trace of alarm. Navarre pulled his sword back to his side, "You're not as old as you try to act." He had taken Ogma to be in his mid to late twenties, early thirties at most. Apparently that was when you could start calling others 'kid' without knowing the latter's age. "When you're a mercenary you have to always be prepared for death, you know that. We're not the kind of people who can afford to have friends. Or at least I'm not the kind of person." With that the Crimson Edge disappeared like smoke into the night.

_Life is worth living...because it is what we make it, and my life will always be alone...._


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem

* * *

It was early morning...too early. _Who ever thought up the idea that all mercenaries are early risers...as soon as I find him heads will roll. _Navarre was all for rising with the sun but it was still dark outside. If he wasn't still trying to throw off the fog of sleep it wouldn't have mattered. The endless halls of Castle Aurelis with were as bright as day from seemingly hundreds of lanterns in the walls.

Gray eyes glared at where Prince Marth and the other "regal types" were conversing. _Tch, the palace is filled from hall to hall with soldiers and the general is worrying about damages to the building. _

Cursing under his breath Navarre turned his back to the chatting nobles and decided to settle a matter that had been bothering him since last night. He hesitated then walked towards Captain Ogma

"Hey, Ogma", it sounded strange to say a name....

Captain Ogma turned around good-natured as always, "Well who would've thought you started talking to people?" Navarre just kept up his stoic disposition, "You asked me yesterday whether I was mentally scarred or just born this way. Would you like an answer?" every word was spoken with an odd calmness, the kind you'd feel on a moonless night.

"Well I _was _half joking but since you offered, sure let's hear your answer." Ogma's thundering voice didn't quite cover up the note of surprise. This conversation had gone perfectly on path, "Kill more soldiers in the up coming battle then me, and you'll have your answer." was the curt reply.

Ogma stopped smiling, "You're making a bet on human lives?" Navarre turned away and as he was walking off he called back, "Yes, it's not only humans dying in this war. If the mission is to kill, you might has well have some motivation."

Navarre didn't have to wait long before they started to storm the castle, from his point of view it would've been better to just lay it under siege, but they didn't have any artillery. _And that's what happens when an island kingdom decides to fund a war...._

Navarre adjusted his grip on his Killing Edge, he had given back the Steel Sword after making it clear to Prince Marth that he would rather stick with a lighter blade. It wasn't that he wasn't strong enough for the Steel Sword, it was just unreasonably heavy. _Last I checked steel was suppose to be lighter then iron. _As an annoying side fact his Killing Edge would have to be replaced soon

"Let's go!" Prince Marth yelled as he led the forces into the castle. Julian immediately got started on picking a lock from a prison that just conveniently happened to be really close to the gate. Regardless the padlock broke off. As the large, barred door swung open a small, blue haired thief stood up from a corner of the stone room. On the sight of the small thief Julian yelled loud enough to wake the dead

To spare his ears from any more screaming Navarre moved on into the corridors of the lavishly decorated palace. Streams of cavaliers greeted him, one of them even branishing a Silver Lance. Needless to say Navarre went after that one, he was even more pleased as the horse came thundering down on him.

A small trick that every mercenary learns is that: horses don't care about human wars. Navarre held out his Killing Edge straight in front of him, and just as he predicted, horses won't impale themselves on jagged swords for anyone. The brown stallion reared upwards and plunged down with a vengeance throwing it's rider clean off. Navarre plunged his sword into the man's neck, smashing vertebrae as the metal tore through flesh. _Just one among many...._

By the time Navarre had sloughed his way to the most eastern set of corridors in the palace he was well into the cage of murderous concentration. It was nearly empty except for a thief who was trying to escape. In a red blur Navarre rushed down the stairs and aimed for the thief's head. Normally it would've been safer to duck and slash at the enemy's legs to eliminate any retaliation but it was out of the question this time. Navarre was a lot taller then the thief.

None the less the Crimson Edge never fails to kill, in a matter of seconds the thief ceased to live. As the Macedonian fell he dropped the sword he was carrying. _Killing Edge.... _Navarre had never believed in given empathy to war stricken souls, taking from the dead was perfectly acceptable to him. After all, on the battle field the dead have no one to blame but themselves.

He picked up the fallen's sword and thrust it into his scabbard and hurried off to the southern corridors.

It seemed like the entire Altean (Talian) army was spread out in the two massive southern corridors. Julian and the small blue haired thief were busy unlocking a chest shielded by two decorative screens in the hall. _The people we meet in a war...._ Most of the fighting units were holding back due to the armored knights that were patrolling the halls. Despite giving back the Steel Sword, Navarre had kept the Armorslayer so under his standards it was perfectly safe to walk down the corridor that was crawling with knights.

Someone was coming up behind him, it was impossible not to hear the thundering clash of metal armor. A forward thrust and the Armorslayer slid easily through the tough leather and iron. Out of the corner of his eye Navarre saw another knight coming, he swerved on his heel to face the opponent.

The knight's heavy Steel Lance smashed into his Armorslayer bending Navarre's wrist back to the point where he had to switch hands to avoid further damage. The knight thrusted again, this time Navarre's block was less rigid and in a less skilled man would've been considered clumsy. The last attack the knight made had pushed Navarre's wrist back with such force that he was unable to use both hands that was needed to block a lance's trust.

He stumbled from the force of the blow, his sword wielding left hand was pushed aside leaving him open. The lance went further cutting a ragged red line as it went, the tip first met flesh just bellow his right shoulder and left under his collarbone. It left a long ragged wound across his chest, blood was darkening the red of his jacket.

Navarre barely felt his back hit the wall breaking his uneven gait. Pure luck saved him as Pontifex Merric came racing by throwing a Thunder spell at the knight out of his new yellow covered tome. The knight fell nearly instantaneously.

Navarre had only felt his opponent's weapon a few times in his career. Everyone picks up light scratches now and then but serious wounds were foreign to him. He pushed himself upright from the wall with his elbow.

"Wait, hold still or you'll just make it worse!" Lena yelled. Navarre's head snapped up, he didn't notice the cleric had come up. Lena raised her stave and yelled "Heal!" temporarily a blinding blue light erupted blinding Navarre, when it subsided the blood was gone from his clothing but he could still feel the wound. The cleric frowned, "I'm sorry, my Heal stave isn't strong enough to heal you completely, maybe you should sit out for the battle?" Navarre refused by getting up and shifting his sword back into his hand. He said something inaudible that was suppose to be a "It's fine." and then went off.

There wasn't much left to do, in all truth it would've been easier if he just stayed behind. The knights and remaining archers were defeated and all that remained was a General defending the throne. Navarre was too far away to hear what the armored man said but it was no doubt empty taunts. Merric was pulling a blue colored book out of his shoulder bag of tomes, flipped it open and laid his hand on the pages.

A greenish wind blew across the throne room like small knives cutting tapestries that happened to be in it's way. The General clanged to the ground defeated, his gold trimmed armor turned into scrap metal.

Navarre allowed himself a relieved sigh. _Next time I storm a castle I'll ask for a map._ He flinched as a heavy hand clapped him on the back. "So Navarre, how many kills?" Ogma asked his broad smile once again plastered on his face.

" I...lost track" Navarre replied quickly. Right now he didn't care who won the bet, he was too distracted at the pain from the wound he received. "Well I remember, I defeated exactly twenty eight enemies, all of them cavaliers." Navarre noted how Captain Ogma used the word 'defeated' instead of 'killed'.

"Fine, you'll have your answer." Navarre was cut off by the sharp throbbing ache in his chest. "...later" he abruptly added on. Ogma laughed, "You see, even getting injured is something worth learning."

* * *

Okay, maybe this was not the most exciting chapter I've made...I"ll try harder it's just that I hate this particular chapter in Shadow Dragon (except for the extra Killing Edge you get)

Please Read and Review


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:I do not own Fire Emblem

* * *

**

The Archanean League (as the Talys/Altean/Aurelian army was now known as) was on the march again. Problem was that they weren't going in the right direction. _Detours, detours, and I thought the general wanted to regain control of his precious Altea. _

Navarre had watched with a scowl on his face as Prince Marth gave into the pleades of villagers. They claimed that bandits have stolen their children and were holding them for ransom. Navarre was all for killing people left and right but wasn't this suppose to be a campagin?

The march was a short one but some of the less noble units looked as if they'd rather not be here. By Navarre's standards it wasn't so bad, there was a mountain rage on one side so their flank was protected, and a single small bridge that lead over the river. The village was close to the bridge and swarming with bandits and a seperate island cut off by the stream's tributary.

The mountians and the river made their entrance into a broad pass. As soon as they were in eyesight, the bandits came at them with axes raised. _Bandits, they're all the same, all brawn and no brain. _Navarre knew bandits well enough, he had worked for them several times. He side stepped as a Steel Axe came within inches of clawing his face off. Then an Iron Sword severed the bandit's head.

There were only a few enemies stationed on their side of the river, the main force was on the main land mostly surrounding the village. The enemy had positioned archers on the island and once the axeman were defeated a shower of arrows came down on them.

Darros, a former pirate was rushing across the river and threw his Hand Axe at the nearest archer. Navarre however (who really despised getting wet) remembered that in small villages there were often underwater bridges made from piling pebbles into a stream. He found it on the right side of the stream and was able to cross. Once over he made quick work of the archers, he only remembered the first one he killed. The man had a Steel Bow and was taking aim at Darros when Navarre came up behind him and thrust his sword into the archer's back.

As the Archanean league made their way to the main land via the bridge they were met by sword weilding Mercenaries. These guys were no push overs like the axe weilding bandits. One of them attacked Navarre with a side swing. Navarre blocked it with relative ease but tensed as the enemy blade immediately retracted, he knew what was coming next: a deadly blow to the head.

Navarre ducked quickly seeing with grim satisfaction at the surprise on the Mercenary's face. Then pushing himself up and slashed at the opponent's leg immoblizing him. Then the finishing blow to the skull.

Cain and Abel finished off the rest of the enemies with their Steel Lances and Javelins. Merric and Princess Caeda went for the remaining Mages while Prince Marth checked on the village.

This village was much larger then the one where Navarre found the peculiar red stone. He hadn't forgotten it and it hadn't ceased to amaze him. The red rock looked lit from the inside, it was smooth but not shiny and reflected nothing.

He quickly put the stone back into his pocket as he heard vague footsteps. Coming up behind the Crimson Edge usually meant instant death. Navarre swung his Killing Edge(the old one since it hasn't yet broken) and was immediately parried by an Iron Sword.

"Vhy are you attacking us? Ve vere on your side!" the parrier yelled. Navarre pulled back his sword and stared at the so called ally. She didn't look like an Archanean, not to mention the way she pronounced her Ws as Vs. "Us? You're just one person." he snapped back. "Ve know that ve are vun vomen! Your general Marth doesn't seem to understand, ve are here to help the village children." the female Myrmidon replied curtly.

Navarre shut his mouth, it didn't seem worth it to try to figure out what this Myrmidon meant. "Next time you come up behind me it'll be your head." he responded just as darkly. The Myrmidon didn't seem to mind the rudeness of his words. "Vell, vell, I had expected the Crimson Edge to ve a bad tempered man."

Navarre just turned away, "So what? And I suppose you're the most optmistic person alive?" The female swordsman shook her head and held out her hand, "Ve are called Athena, the pleasure is all ours. Though ve think that svordsman that start out the age you did are a bad influence on the vee vuns."

After a moment of hesitation Navarre shook her hand, just once as it was his custom. _No one can keep personal history a secret these days can they? I hate fame. _He already had gathered some information on this Athena person based on her clothing. They were made out of what looked like caribou pelt and comprimised long sleeves. Where ever she came from, it must've been cold there.

"Fine, talk later fight now." he snapped before walking away. While he and Athena were talking the mounted units (Cain, Abel, Princess Caeda, Matthis, The Aurelians, and even old man Jeigan)had taken out the remainder of the Mercenary units. All that was left in the Bandit's defense was their leader. For personal reasons, Navarre wanted to take him out himself.

"You...you look slightly familiar." the bandit squinted his eyes as if it would help him remember. "Just wanted to say sorry for swtiching sides on you last time, don't take it personally. I'm a mercenary and that's just what we do." Navarre stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

Bandit leader Bathys never learned what hit him as Navarre's Killing Edge came down on his head. With a sharp snap the old sword finally gave out and broke, Navarre left it in the bandit's dead body.

After the battle and "touching" reunion with the villagers and their children the Archanean league stopped for a while to rest. "Hey Navarre!" the Crimson Edge turned his head to see Ogma coming up to him. "You told me I'd have your answer to my question later, so let's hear it!" he said cheerfully. Ogma apparently was a firm believer in "helping people makes you feel good" but Navarre didn't' feel any different after today.

"Out of the two options you gave me...I would have to say I'm closer to mentally scarred." he grudgingly answered.

"Really? How so?"

"None of your business."

"Call it a penalty for forgetting how many people you _defeated_"

"...Certain people think that wars are fought for amusement. It doesn't take long for anyone to learn that no one goes to war for fun. People who don't learn die."

Ogma didn't seem surprised, "I see, and who was this person who died?" Navarre just shrugged, "What does it matter? Children...teenagers think that they'll live forever and get themselves into trouble, what did you want me to do? Just let them go by themselves?" It wasn't the right thing to say, after all Navarre himself had been just that, a teenager back then and Ogma could see it written on his face. "The unskilled die. After a while you start to detatch yourself from society, stop becoming upset at the thought of killing and get a completely different set of values. If I could relieve my life, I wouldn't change it. I'd rather be alone." With that Navarre got up and walked away.

Ogma just shook his head, it was a story he had heard before but in this one, someone had survived but not gone back home. What kind of person would rather wander as a mercenary then go home? "That man's a wall, I just can't figure him out." Ogma laughed softly to himself.

_The people we are....

* * *

_**Please Read and Review**

As you've probably noticed by now I update pretty regularly, but this one was a little late because I was writing another story that is posted up now


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:I do not own Fire Emblem**

Lefcandith Gauntlet, a narrow mountain pass way with several fortresses lining the sides. A single village is to the left of the landscape and completely surrounded by peaks.

_What kind of mad man attacks the enemy here of all places?_

Prince Marth apparently, not to mention the fact that scouts have reported the presence of Macedonian Dracoknights on the field. It was too late to pull back now, the battle had already started.

Earlier that day the old tactician Malledus had given Navarre a Vulnerary and a Door Key and told him to secure the village. Honestly, Navarre was certain that the tactition just wanted to get rid of him. _Don't underestimate me old man._

Sighing once more from contempt Navarre unlocked the gates blocking off the village, the metal doors swung open on their own. Drawing out his blade Navarre cautiously walked intoi the enclosed mountain circle. He heard a twig snap somewhere to his left, lowering his sword Navarre walked forward.

A large sword came swinging out of the shadows, Navarre drew back immediately to get a firm stance, it was a Mercenary, now that one had reveled himself two others appeared out of seemingly no where. Realizing the speed needed to end this battle Navarre wasted no time in attacking the first Mercenary that appeared. He went for a quick slash to the neck releasing his sword as fast as possible from the blow to face the second opponent. The second enemy attempted an upper cut with his sword, Navarre's Iron Sword landed on top of it forcing the enemy blade into a grinding halt.

The Mercenary turned out to physically stronger then Navarre had betted on, so he pulled his sword back. The opponent's sword went flying up from the energy built up when he was struggling to detatch from Navarre's block. Taking the opportunity Navarre thrusted forward cutting into the Mercenary's stomach. But while he was dealing with Mercenary # 2 the third enemy had snuck up behind him. It was too late to block and the final Mercenary's sword sliced on his shoulder blade.

Based on the pain Navarre judged that the wound couldn't be that serious so he turned on his heel and sliced at the enemy aiming for the arm. After stunning his opponent Navarre went in for the kill by cutting a deep horizontal slash on the Mercenary's torso.

Finally fending off his attackers Navarre leaned against the rocky walls of the surrounding peaks to catch his breath. Now that the adrenaline was subsiding he felt the harsh sting of his shoulder blade wound. Sudden clear memory reminded him of the Vulnerary he was given and he pulled out the yellowish bottle. Oddly enough he had never used a Vulnerary before, only Antitoxins. He could guess how bad it must taste. Shrugging he uncapped it and drank part of it's contents, no kidding it was bitter, he didn't want to imagine what herb it was made of.

He hooked the medicene bottle to his belt and went into the village to secure it. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see people huddling behind curtains, they seemed to take him as an enemy. He was about the leave when he sensed a presence behind him. Whirling around Navarre just barely stopped himself from slaughtering an old man.

"You, child. Have you seen a young girl named Tiki?" he asked with barely concealed urgency. "No, I haven't." Navarre responded briskly before turning back again. The old man didn't seem to be finished though, "I have sensed a large presence near here, a large group of people."

"Yes, the Archanean League, any more questions?" Navarre was starting to become annoyed. "Yes, I want to speak to your leader. I must find Tiki!" the old man nearly yelled clawing at the swordman's sleeve. Navarre was taken back, he had first considered the old man to be senile in some way but the old timer had somehow known about the Archanean League's arrival.

"Are you human old man?!"

"Me? I am a manakete, a dragon kin. But I have lost my Fire Stone at the Pyrathi Islands and without it I am a mere old man."

"A Fire Stone you say...." Navarre's thoughts were taken back to the bright red stone he had found in the village. He pulled the stone out of his pocket and pushed it towards the old man. "Is that what this is?"

The old manakete tentatively took the stone into his hand as if he expected a trick. The bony hand turned the round stone over and his black eyes lit up. "Yes! This is a Fire Stone!"

"Fine, since you can be of some use now, follow me." Navarre responded curtly and started walking away without looking to see if the old manakete was following.

Despite the large fortresses the land was quite flat despite a few hills here and there. Navarre could see reinforcements pouring out of the said fortresses. Cavaliers were swarming across the field like ants

The ally cavaliers Cain and Abel were sending a hail of javelins as a protective cover to Ogma and the axeman Barst who were frantically trying to keep the reinforcements under control. Princess Caeda was slaughtering the cavaliers from the west fortress with her Wing Spear. Prince Marth was going for the General that was guarding the castle gate.

Rapier crossed with Silver Lance, sad to say that Prince Marth has probably gone through one too many fixed matches. Whatever the court nobles say, most if not all of "regal" sparring is fixed so that the more nobler noble wins.

Navarre who was too busy watching his general get his back side handed to him didn't notice the old manakete had run forward. The Fire Stone that was clenched in the old weathered hands started glowing. The red stone seemed to melt sending a red glare around the manakete. The red glow then shifted in to a much larger shape that towered over trees and fortresses alike.

In place of the feeble old man reared a giant red dragon, plunging downwards the dragon spewed out a large flame that burned down everything in it's path. Actually the only human in it's path was the general.

It was just pure luck that Prince Marth was in the motion of ducking from a lance thrust when the blast of fire reached the enemy General. The flames produced too bright a flare to allow any vision to see what happened to the enemy general but the smell of burning metal and flesh were strong enough to vomit from.

The General was gone, all that remained of him was a burnt patch of ground where he was standing. Prince Marth's surprise was enough for both him and Navarre. The red-orange dragon transformed back into the old man in a flash of red light. It took a sharp eye to notice that the Fire Stone wasn't as bright as it once was.

"W-who or what are you?!" Prince Marth managed to stammer out.

"Bantu, I am a Fire Dragon now that I have my Fire Stone."

Bantu went through the little ceremony about finding this Tiki girl with Marth, unlike Navarre, Marth seemed to have taken an interest in a certain part of Bantu's speech

"Pyrathi you say? We are heading to Port Warren which is quite close to the Pyrathi Islands. If you're willing to scour the continent for Tiki then you should come with us!"

_Typical naive general, but we do need all the man power we can get only...Bantu's not a human man_

Port Warren, on a grand scale it would be the center of trade in all of Archanea. The town itself is a bustling shopping market. Sometime in the beginning of the history of Archanea it was once a military position so there are a lot of defensive fortresses built into the two mountain passes.

"Ahaha! It's been so long since I've been near the ocean. There's no better place to be then Port Warren!" Ogma declared. "You do realise that we're not on vacation don't you?" Navarre snapped back. The Crimson Edge could keep his cool against any opponent on the battlefield but in large bustling crowds of "ignorant" villagers, he became unreasonably irritable.

"Don't be so crabby Navarre, you should be happy, looks like there's some new recruits." Ogma pointed towards two teenagers. A Mercenary and a small red headed Myrmidon. "Mercenaries of Port Warren aren't top notch on their fighting skills but they're very enthusiastic I've heard." Ogma noted.

The two mercenaries of Port Warren presented themselves to Prince Marth, the red head's name was suppose to be Radd and his partner was Cesar

_Not top notch is an understatement! _Navarre thought watching the young Myrmidon, the poor kid wasn't even holding his sword right. Finally he gave in and walked over to the red headed boy. "Kid, you don't hold a short sword like that."

The little Myrmidon spung around and stared at Navarre, a few moments later his jaw dropped. Navarre kept speaking since he didn't want to hear whatever the kid had to say. "You hold a short sword with both hands, since you're coming into closer combat you should use all the strength you have in strikes."

_Even if he wanted to use a long sword the kid's way too short. A short sword's even a bit long for him. _Radd was just about five feet tall, a short sword is about three feet long, and a long sword has to be at least four feet long.

_Of all people, there are some people who are just too young to die in a war...._

_

* * *

_Just for the record, Radd is probably one of the best default myrmidons in the game. I just don't like him, why? It's because he comes at level one when the rest of your characters are like level 15 or something. He needs to be babied from the start and I don't like doing that!

Please Read and Review


	7. Chapter 7

"Argh!" Navarre brought his sword bearing down with all his strength. The blade cut through the soldier's helmet. He tore his weapon loose and swung at a nearby horseman.

"Now who's idea was it to make a public display at Port Warren?" he silently cursed his commander. An arrow flew by his face missing by mere inches. He risked a glance at the small penisula east of the main port. _Come on Prince, get on with it! There's no end to these reinforcements! _he silently urged. The set of fortresses displayed north of the gauntlet mountains were like faucets pouring horsemen and knights.

A hefty lance was thrust at him, Navarre side stepped and brought his Armorslayer bearing down on the knight. With a flick of his wrist he then severed the reins of a horseman behind him.

He flipped the sword in his hand and adjusted his grip, readying himself for another onslaught. He was almost about to strike when a flurry of white feathers flew in his face. _Damn it Princess Caeda! That's the second time your winged pony swung it's wing in my face! _

"Navarre! Marth has done it! I knew he'd do it! Head to the port!" she screamed above the clashes of battle. Personally Navarre thought that the last four words would've sufficed in sending a message but he didn't complain. He started heading backwards careful to keep his back reasonably close to the boulders and to never cross his feet.

When he had put a few hundred yards between himself and the nearest knight he turned and started booking. He weaved a little to minimize his chances of getting hit by some projectile. A few soldiers were in his way scattered across the gray pavemented bridge. He charged at them and using the momentum ran them through with his sword. "Out of my way!" and a soldier got knocked out or gutted.

The bridge had been partially destroyed by the enemy but there was enough rocks left to hold it up. So the occasional dodging of debris was required. A knight stood in his way, its frame was so broad that between it's armor and the rocks it was impossible to get through. Navarre didn't slow down but swung as hard as he could aiming for it's head .The knight held up a monster sized lance and prepared to shank him with it.

Giving up the attack Navarre rolled to the side, got up and thrust the sword easily through the armor from behind. He pulled the Armorslayer free of red armor, he spared a second to realize that the slayer weapon was starting to wear down.

Dodging enemies and ramming the few that stood directly in his path Navarre managed to get to the docks unscathed. Regaining his breath he walked quietly up the boarding plank into the ship. The cavalry helped pick up those who weren't skilled or fast enough to make it on their own. Navarre felt a rare stab of sympathy to the Altean knights, especially that pink haired fool Roger. The way he was gawping over Princess Caeda, it must've been some miracle that he wasn't dead.

It wasn't until Port Warren was out of sight did Navarre allow himself to relax. He leaned out the edge of the ship looking at the blue expance of the ocean. It has been some time since he had last sailed.

"Oi there! Not prone to being sea sick?" Ogma asked cheerfully.

"Hm...not that I remember."

"Hahaha! You should've seen my first time on a ship, I nearly out turned my stomach."

Navarre kept his gaze stuck on the dark waters but he vaguely envied how Ogma could live life lightly and be able to laugh at himself. He stayed in that position even after Ogma left and ignored the facination of those roaming the deck. He only straightened up once his shoulders started burning from being held in the same position for so long.

The clear air was starting to take him in to a kind of trance until a shout went up. "Fog ahead!" His first thought was what kind of stupid dolt would see fog, it was a perfectly clear day. But as Navarre looked up there was indeed a thick curtain of fog streaming towards their boat. The fog flushed over their boat in such density that Navarre's jacket started to become damp.

He drew his Killing Edge from it's sheath and glared around him. He couldn't see anyone but could hear the muffled shouts of surprise. Suddenly a sudden shaking like an earthquake shook the ship. There were thuds of people falling over but NAvarre stayed up right by holding on to the edge of the ship. "Soldiers!"

_Must've been magic or something, fog doesn't come up that quickly. _What little light was left winked on the tip of a spear emerging from the mist. Not taking any chances Navarre swung at it and succeeded in smashing the helmet off a foot soldier.

More footsteps sounded as the enemy boarded the ship. This wasn't a good position to be in, there was no room to dodge to, no protection. _I like those odds._

A massive Devil Axe cut through the fog and nearly caught the swordsman on the shoulder as he was busy slicing a myrmidon in half. He blocked the massive weapon with the hilt of his sword and thrust forward, he was rewarded by a scream.

A creak of wood sounded behind him and Navarre promptly swung vertically towards it. "Ah!" the slightly familiar shrill cry came up as the sword barely managed to avoid cutting off Gordin's head. Scowling with annoyance Navarre retreated back into the fog. He smiled inwardly, he was starting to enjoy this fight. A hilt punch ended the life of one soldier and a corresponding swing cut off his ally.

Navarre stanced his Killing Edge and prepared to soak the deck with blood.


	8. Chapter 8

_Side step._

A lance thrust into empty air.

_Swing._

The lancer fell down.

The enemy's ship rammed into the Archanean League's ship, it seemed impossible that such a large vessel should be able to back up a reasonable distance then slam into a ship so quickly. The presence of hordes of mages of Khadein might've provided an answer.

A Thunder magic slammed the deck searing wood and rope, Navarre barely acknowledged the destruction as he swung at the magic tearing flesh and bone against metal. There was no time to take a breath as another one of Dolhr's seemingly endless supply of mercenaries charged at him. He parried the the sword as it swung over head with a horizontal block.

Using the mercenary's own momentum he tilted his sword letting the enemy's blade slip a little then forced it down. Snatching the opportunity Navarre slashed at the mercenary's neck. Distatching the body from his sword he turned toward a mage that was coming up behind him. His eyes focused on the decorative tome in the mage's hands and thrust at it, the sword pierced the book and it's master.

Immediately after a sword cut through the fog that a normal man would've been gravely injured. But as a fellow mercenary Navarre was no average man and dodged it easily. Pivioting his entire body Navarre swung with all his might at the swordsman quite nearly seperating his torso in half.

The fog was starting to thin out enough that he could actually see a couple more yards. An enemy soldier branishing a Killing Edge came at up, Navarre leveled his sword to his shoulder goading the enemy to come at him. He dropped back to dodge the furious blow and cuntered, his own sword went clean through the enemy's stomach despite the resistance of muscle and bone.

Tearing his weapon loose Navare flipped the sword in his hand to relieve the aching that had over taken his wrists. "They're retreating! Chase them down!" Prince Marth yelled from the other side of the ship. Cavaliers over took the fleeing foot soldiers with a vengence. Navarre sheathed his sword with a nonchalant sigh and resumed watching the horizon.

* * *

"Give it up Navarre, you're not winning!" Ogma goaded laughingly.

Navarre didn't say a word, parrying Ogma's sledgehammer blows were near impossible and often times came close to clawing his face off. That in itself wasn't the problem, any swordsman learns as a novice to keep calm in this situation. The problem was the fact that the moment one blow came past his face another one came swinging leaving little to no openings.

He shook his head in confusion of how he got into this situation.

Ogma raised his Steel Sword above his head and brought it bearing down, spotting a possibility Navarre parried keeping his sword angled high so that Ogma's blade slid down to the hilt. Using the leverage the hilt gave him Navarre forced Ogma's sword to the side and attacked in a closed swing. The flat of the sword struck it's mark, it must've stung at worst but in a battle the opponent would've lost an arm.

Suddenly Navarre thrust his blade back into its scabbard. Before Ogma or any of the spectators-much to Navarre's distaste-could say anything he nodded to the front of ship. The isles of Pyrathi were coming into view, the outline of what was once sacred structures were burned into the sky by the sun.

Little was known about these isles although there were some rumors that the Pyrathi king Mannu was a dragon. "Prince Marth is running a great risk, I doubt people who have been almost completely isolated since the beginning of time would appreciate univited visitors." Navarre commented.

"Yes, but then there's going back to Port Warren." Ogma suggested sarcastically.

"Getting over run by a river of soldiers or getting burned to death by a potential manakete... What can I say?" Navarre walked away.

The ship docked at the western side of the main isle, soldiers were already waiting at the bridge that connected it to the main land. _Heh, every where we go there's always a welcoming party._

He let the calvalry take the van, taking his time to get a good look around. Castle Pyrathi was surprisingly close, just due south. From where he was he could see glimpses of an old man dressed in green and gold robes. Just one old man guarding a gate, no doubt the rumors of Mannu's true form were real.

The old paladin Jeigan ordered him to head east and further into the relics of time. Navarre felt a slight twinge of regret, but didn't complain. He crossed the bridge from the castle island and onto the main land.

The red haired thief Julian was running ahead of him heading for a collapsed building to the far east. "Wait stop!" Navarre shouted. Julian skidded and looked around widly, finally spotting axemen spawning from the tiny pieces of land-they were way too small to be called isles-south of the main land.

In a flash pirates and fighters were wading into the shallows of the shore. Seconds later Navarre found himself facing two opponents at once. One of them swung a Steel Axe with surprising speed.

It clipped Navarre on the forearm, he took it without a sound. A fierce swing in retaliation silenced the weilder. Without a moment's hesitation Navarre attacked the second enemy using the force of a side pivote to drive his sword clean through.

Sliding on the blade Navarre decided to move on, it was a shame that they had to get swarmed with masses of reinforcements...again. Up ahead the ruins formed a long hall. Despite being alert in case of ambush Navarre had to pause for a split second to admire the craftminship that must've gone into the intricate carvings on the walls.

The roof of the hall was caved in so sunlight poured into the ruin. It highlighted a large red chest at the end. Keeping his senses aware of any advances behind him Navarre knelt down to the chest and unlocked it with a master key.

The content puzzled him, it seemed too out of place. Inside the dusty old lichen covered chest was as brand new sword. The blade was sharpened on both sides and the hilt was polished until it shone. Pulling the sword out of it's dirty confinements Navarre looked over it quickly. A carved dragon on the hilt marked it's identity. _Wyrmslayer._

Clipping the sword to his belt Navarre exited the ruin immensly pleased with his findings. Outside Julian and Athena had finished off the axemen and everyone's attention was focused on Castle Pyrathi.

"Here." Navarre offered his Wyrmslayer to Ogma. The mercenary looked form the sword to the swordsman in confusion. Navarre shrugged, nothing irked him more then excess attention and that is exactly what being a dragonslayer would bring him.

Still looking a perplexed Ogma accepted the blade, hoisting over his head the brawny mercenary attacked the manakete. THe fire lizard roared with rage as the blade pierced it's scales with ease. It spat out a massive fireball, wildly from pain. It hit nobody but the after shocks knocked several off their feet. Taking the pause Ogma swung at the outraged fire lizard. The Wyrmslayer cut deeply into the bottom of it's throat servering bone and tendons.

The manakete fell to the ground with a thud like some minature earthquake. The body was still steaming from the fire that had flicked across its body.

There was many a relieved sigh as the dragon finally went limp. Parts of the castle gate had been knocked off from the lizard's lashing tail. The ancient Castle Pyrathi joined the rest of the island's stonework in ruins.

* * *

**Author's Note: **If you found the manakete battle scene boring I will tell you now that this is based off my experiences with the game. And let me tell you this: every friggin time when I got to Pyrathi I teleported Navarre with a couple keys to the ruins, moved him back to the main island while Marth visited the village and then beat all of the reinforcements off. Then I went back to the main land and killed Mannu in two, three hits max. That is how it went every single time.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I am going to write part of this story in POV but not Navarre's, and for the record, this chapter is easy. Just in case anyone is struggling over the masses of reinforcements in the game just do this: reclass Wolf into a General, stick him in front of the entrance with a couple lances and bows then let him take the assault. Seriously, he can take it. I do it every time and every time all those Dracoknights and Cavaliers break themselves upon him. Besides, if you do that and let him gain a couple of levels then reclass him to a Horseman, he'll have advantage of bows, more speed, and a huge improve in strength and defense.

* * *

The Archanean League-which had two, maybe three Archaneans in it-was preparing to move out. During the last three days injuries were healed, supplies were restocked and weapons were repaired. For once the League provided an obvious threat to opposing armies.

Navarre gave his sword an expert swing, satisfied with the sharpness he thrust it in to it's scabbard. All around him everyone was suiting up, the order to move should be any time now.

Suddenly a shout went up from one of the guards, looking up Navarre could see a flurry of white wings. _Winged ponies, _any _winged ponies, ruin everything._

Ever since being recruited into the League Navarre had hated pegasi and their respective knights. What more, this intruder wore the colors of Macedon. Archers raised their bows preparing a rain of arrows. But the rider wildly waved her hand emphasizing that she was unarmed.

"Hold! I am a White Wing! I have a message from the Princess Minerva!" her shriek tore up the air. "Vho gives a flip that she's a Vhite Ving? Ve should just shot her down now." Athena muttered loud enough to be heard.

Navarre agreed wholeheartily.

But as the swordsman expected Prince Marth called a halt, "Put down your weapons, we will hear her message." There were a few rolling of eyes even from the more sympathetic.

A blue haired girl slid off the pegasus(winged pony) and saluted to Prince Marth before sketching a quick duty bow. "Prince Marth, I am Catria, of the Whitewing Order. I have come with a request from out mistress, the princess Minerva. She is planning to lead us against Dolhr in rebellion; however, her hands are tied so long as the enemy holds her younger sister, the princess Maria, captive. Will you rescue Princess Maria from their clutches, that my Whitewing sisters and I might join in your fight?"

At this point Navarre stopped listening, he already knew what Prince Marth was going to say. And he also could bet that they were going to take a detour against horrible odds and attack in a frontal assault with little or no strategy.

* * *

That day the army was split, one half trusted Minerva's messenger, the other half thought it foolish to believe the enemy. Marth determined their next destination to be Castle Deil to rescue Princess Maria.

Standing on top of the sloping hills offered Navarre a good view of the scores of enemies. Unplanned or taken by surprise makes no difference, they were severely outnumbered...as usual.

The myrmidon clenched his fist in a gesture of frustration, day after day he was losing faith in Prince Marth. Shaking his head in exasperation he stopped his train of thought and listened to the "strategy".

A few select were to storm the castle, the insides were suppose to be very lightly guarded. A good half of the army will head west then north to defeat the dragoons and calvary then attack the fort that the general Zarhov was guarding. The other half was to remain outside castle walls to hold off the masses of reinforcements that were stationed east.

Navarre was to follow Prince Marth into the castle along with horseman Wolf and bishop Wendell. Upon hearing his order Navarre cast a glance at the old bishop wondering what the heck an old man was doing here. Shrugging it off he patiently waited for Marth to finish his "inspirational" speech.

Upon the "**FOR ALTEA!**" roar infantry advanced.

Seeing as there was no immediate threat Navarre took a moment to ponder over the terrain. One word could describe it: flat.

A terrain that is suitable for nothing except a frontal assault, no flanks, no protection. So if anyone got to your side your only hope of survival is a reversed front.

* * *

Spell book clasped in my hands I gazed anxiously at the Macedonian fortress. Praying to the deities above that Pontifex Wendell wouldn't throw out his back I kept my eyes peeled for enemies.

Suddenly a shout of warning came from one of the scouts. As if out of no where two Dracoknights and a handful of Pegasus Knights appeared in the cloud filled sky. The lead Dracoknight made a hand gestured and I found myself narrowly dodging javelins.

Pressing the book between my palms I recited a silent spell then raised my hand to the skies. "Excaliber!" I roared as scythe like winds whirled around one of the Pegasus Knights clipping her wings.

Beside me Castor and Gordin where loosing arrows at the flurry of wings. They tore easily through pegasus pin feathers but bounced off of wyvern scales. I shut my eyes preparing another spell but a whizzing sound interrupted me. "Look out!" some one shouted and I felt myself being pushed roughly to one side.

A short spear landed where I had been standing a moment ago, "Whoa...thanks a bunch!" I said to the axeman named Cord. Nodded to me the man hurled a hand axe at the javelin's owner.

Biding myself to be more aware I followed Cord's example.

"Thunder!"

A wyvern fell out of the sky and landed throwing up a cloud of dust. Wings flapping madly and tail lashing it writhed for a moment before stiffening.

I focused on the second Dracoknight, I drew up Thunder magic but before I could release it something sharp hit me from behind. A lance shaft nearly knocked me over but I managed to roll out of the way. "Thunder!"

Guided by the metal lance tip Thunder magic ripped the cavalier from his horse. Some where in the fray the thief Julian shoved a vulnerary at me. I gazed at it uncertainly weighing it's healing power with it's horrible taste. Finally deciding to suffer through it I downed the bitter tonic.

About to turn back to the battle Princess Caeda called to me from the skies.

"Hey! Come with me!" she called gesturing to the faint outlines of buildings in the distance. Unhappy to be leaving the battle field but understanding the need to restock I followed my orders.

All the while double taking I ran to keep up with Caeda's pegasus as it flew gracefully through the clouds. Reaching the destination I doubled over panting, "Could...you...slow down a bit...next time? I...I'm only human you know."

Casting me a sympathetic smile Princess Caeda pulled me into the closest shop. Inside it looked like any other shop, in fact it astounded me how every shop looked pretty much exactly alike. Down to the mahogany wallpapers to the varnished oak counters, even the clerks dressed the similarly.

I ran through our supplies, "We need heal staves, Linde said something about running low on tomes, a couple of extra swords, lances, and axes never hurt, oh yeah and vulneraries!"

Caeda cast me a glance, "So...we need everything then?"

I stared back indignantly, "Of course not! I didn't say we needed Pure Waters or torches!"

Caeda laughed like it was some huge joke which frankly hurt me a little. While Caeda searched from an impressive selection of lances I mulled over the staves.

"Er...do you have something better then a Mend stave? Maybe a Restore or a Barrier stave?" I asked the shop keeper. Her answer was slightly accented, "I am sorry sir but my shop does not offer such staves." I frowned then sighed, "Alright, I guess two Heal staves and a Mend stave will have to do." I looked over the tomes swiftly, it irked me like crazy at the quality of some of the Fire tomes. None the less I bought them without complaint.

Seeing that Caeda was still examining weapons I decided to also buy one of the ever so useful keys that seemed to work every door. After paying the shop keeper and mentally cursing the high price of staves-seriously, 800 gold pieces?-we loaded it onto the pegasus.

From our high vantage point I could see into the castle, Prince Marth was making good progress. They had a little girl with them which I assumed was the Princess Maria. I then looked to the fortress, and sure enough a Dracoknight swinging a halberd axe was attacking the guardians.

"I hope you can honor your choice Princess Minerva." I whispered as the force of the winds blotted out any sounds.

* * *

**Note: **You can guess who's POV it was right?


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I hate this chapter, and it's not because of the manakete on this level, it's not even the ballista soldiers. It's Linde. And the colosseum that you have to train Linde in...from lv. 1.

* * *

Thick foliage intercepted the sunlight casting stripes onto the floor. Hovering over the small barrier of mountains in the west, pegasus knights kept an eagle watch on sea of trees below.

Green eyes peered between the blanket of leaves, in front of them a tartar's bow was nocked with an ash arrow. In a flash the arrow flew from the bow and into the glare of the sun.

"Did I get her? Did I?" Gordin asked barely able to temper his excitement.

"...Yes, I think you got her."

Beaming the small archer ran off looking for a new position. Navarre follow quietly, grimacing at the way Gordin crushed twigs carelessly under his feet. Apparently Altean archers didn't double as scouts.

_"Well, never thought my time here would be spent as a spotter."_

Prince Marth had said something about protecting Gordin while he sniped pegasus knights. That had originally made perfect sense but...

Suddenly an odd whizzing sound pierced the air. Realising the sound's origins Navarre yelled, "Gordin! Stop!"

Even before Gordin skidded to a stop a large iron bolt rammed into the ground. However instead of throwing up a shower of dirt, the second impact was made, a blast of lightning erupted from the arrow head. That sent Gordin flying head of heels landing in a dusty pile.

"Ballistician." Navarre muttered to himself as his acquaintance picked himself up.

Just as the poor archer got to his feet another tell-tale whistling sound started. This time a bolt strapped with rocks smashed into a boulder sending debris everywhere. "Move!" Navarre snapped taking off giving Gordin a rough shove.

Once the ballista bolts stopped raining down on them Navarre stopped to consider their next action. No doubt the ballistae were positioned behind the mountains. That meant that Prince Marth's main force would eventually run into them.

The sound of boots made Navarre whirl around which caused Julian to find himself with a killing edge at his throat. "Whoa! Easy! I'm not the enemy!" the red haired thief exclaimed.

"If you value your life then shut your mouth. Unless you want to be impaled on a ballista bolt." Navarre hissed refusing to move the sword from Julian's neck.

"Well, if you'll just move this neat little blade of your away from me, I can tell you your new orders."

Grudgingly Navarre lowered his sword, "Speak."

"Well, as you've noticed because of this little ballistae problem we have the winged units are kind of...out of commission. And Marth wants to compensate with the rest of the troop, since he split his forces in half to...help...a village." Julian's voice was a mix of skepticism and hopefulness.

Looking away Navarre resisted the urge to say 'of course he did' at the General's actions. What was so important in that village that would steal away from trying to capture the important position of the Archanean palace?

While he was rationalizing the orders of the General, the ever loyal Altean archer had already gotten on his way.

* * *

A small cloaked figure sprinted through an Archanean town, footsteps ringing loudly against hard cobblestones. The figure stumbled on a broken flag, fell, then scrambled up and dodged into an alley.

A moment later the small figure found itself with a scimitar at it's throat. Behind it's cloak the small hand clasped around a leather bag outlining a rectangular shape. A blast of light erupted from the alley, the cloak figure dashed out a second later.

* * *

Navarre found the town that Prince Marth had worked so hard to save in shambles. The main concentration of buildings in the back of the semicircle seemed to be in good condition, but the scattered houses and shops were up in smoke.

With a quick glance around Navarre ran at the first Grustian soldier he saw. The momentum built up from his run sent his killing edge clean through the soldier's torso. Even before the body hit the ground Navarre was pulling his sword free and looking for the next opponent.

Julian's report had either been exaggerated or Prince Marth had changed his mind on the number of troops. The Altean soldiers and mercenaries were outnumbered, the tide wasn't clearly in anyone's favor.

To the left a Grustian charged at him, dropping to his knees Navarre swung his leg at the soldier hearing the man crumble and hit the ground. Getting up in a flash he sunk his sword into the fallen soldier.

Loosening the blade from the broken cobblestone Navarre spotted a flash of gray from the corner of his eye. Pivoting he swung at the gray but was stopped by a shriek. It was at a high enough pitch to be a child's voice.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance he shoved the child towards the entrance of the village only to find him or her had turned back. Pulling a yellow and white covered book from under the gray cloak, a cry of "AURA!" sent a blinding flash of light into the distance.

The light blinded Navarre, in that moment a sword tip cut his arm. Turning swiftly he thrust his sword into his offender. A shadow caused the swordsman to look up, pegasus knights. The inability to continue sniping had spared the winged knights, the noise of battle must've been like a beacon.

A javelin landed a foot next to him, throwing up a small cloud of dust.

It was followed by a flurry of white feathers diving at him like an arrow. Dodging neatly to one side he swung his sword at the pegasus aiming to take off a wing. It wasn't often Navarre was cruel to animals, he liked how they were usually quieter then humans. But ever since he joined the Archanean League pegasi had only brought bad fortune to him.

Ignoring the winged beast he brought his sword down on the rider with all his strength.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem**

* * *

The Ageless Palace, the Millennium Court, or just the Holy Archanean Palace. Navarre have heard numerous names for the legendary halls of the Archanean palace. On the rare occasion the swordsman decided to talk to fellow travelers at an inn, he would hear them would rave about such a place. Of course not many have actually entered, Navarre was sure he would never have the chance so he payed little attention.

But now, standing just inside the main gate of the fabled palace, even he, the stoic wanderer, was captivated by the very threads that embroidered the silk curtains. As much as he detested being distracted, it was an improvement from ten minutes ago.

After the capture of Knorda market, it had started raining. Only it didn't rain in Archanea, it poured. Literally as if some bored goddess decided to tip a huge bucket of water over on her creations. One moment Navarre had been looking at storm clouds, the next second his clothes have been soaked clean through. Now that wasn't even the problem, he hadn't minded the free shower. Except the fact that he was drenched made him consider cutting his hair. _Long _wet hair is very annoying when it keeps getting into his face, truth was the only fact that the red swordsman had that length of hair was because in his profession, you can't always bother with how you look.

_"W-who are you? This is a peaceful village!" a villager demanded, his voice shook a little but he stood tall._

_"I am only passing through." Navarre's voice was shallow from disuse._

_The villager narrowed his eyes and looked carefully at the swordsman. "You know, this one looks kind of familiar. Yeah, he reminds me of a little boy that use to live here, actually this one look just like him. It's just the hair that isn't right, it's too long." he muttered to himself inaudibly. "Poor boy, no one has seen him for so long, everyone says he's dead."_

_Navarre stood perfectly still looking at the old villager, he contemplated leaving now. But villagers are strange, they are easily alarmed. Best to make them believe that he truly had nothing to hide._

_"Please child, if it wouldn't hurt to ask. What's your name?" the old man asked._

_"...Navarre."_

_The old villager's eyes grew to the size of Altean dates, which were the size of shriveled apples that were left on a counter top all summer, in other words, Altea had over sized fruit._

_"You must have me mistaken." Navarre held up a hand in farewell and disappeared like smoke. He would never make the mistake of passing through his home town again...willingly anyway, you can never promise anything._

"Hey, did you hear? There are Archanean knights held prisoner in the palace." Ogma's booming voice jolted Navarre out of his thoughts. "Why? They should have been executed." Navarre replied a tad annoyed.

"Ah, who knows, maybe as bait? But Prince Marth wants to rescue them for the Archanean princess. His plan's pretty good." at this mention Navarre raised an eyebrow his interest sparked. "He plans on using some kind of magic-ever hear of Warp staves?-and sending a couple of mounted units over there. Scouts say there are mages and archers but cavaliers are mobile. Prince Marth figures that we can move fast enough that if the warpees are injured they can come back for aid." Ogma concluded.

Navarre nodded slowly, it was a good plan but he wasn't satisfied with the prisoners. "The forces behind this don't understand, so far, leaving things alive have caused them much misfortune." he explained slowly.

"By the way, you know you're staying here." Ogma said.

"What?"

"Scouts have reported some number of reinforcements, it's a wonder we didn't encounter them on our way here. A small group is suppose to stay behind to deal with them. This is a good place, lots of pillars and corridors, like hide-and-seek." Ogma grinned as if immersed in some childhood memory. "But one thing, I'm going to need to borrow your Wyrmslayer, manakete up ahead y'know?"

Navarre handed the jagged blade over hilt first without hesitation.

"But on the upside the convoy has something for you, go fetch your stuff." with that Ogma gave Navarre a clap on the back that could snap your spine in half and left to take his position.

The armorer was already prepared when the swordsman approached him.

"Take a look at this blade, it's called a Zanbato. Bit of a foreigner, ever seen one before?"

"Horse-Feller."

"Yes, been called that too. It's also been called the Long Sword for some reason or another. Well, make good use of it." the armorer tossed the sword.

Navarre caught it expertly and nodded his thanks. Back at his position he looked at the hilt of the Zanbato. There was a little horse carved on it, along with some pansy flowers. A vine curled around the handle and even sported a tiny jay. It made you wonder why someone would carve something so peaceful on a weapon.

Leaning against a pillar Navarre listened to the talk of the soldiers around him.

"Heh, I can't wait till after the battle, that stuff at breakfast was good, hope we have the same thing for lunch."

"Yeah, I hope we get a break afterwards, I hear that Archanean women are especially beautiful."

"I need a new lance after this, my steel one is starting to wear out."

"D'ya think it's a good idea to warp Pegasus knights over? There are archers."

"Yeah but there are mages too, the cavaliers will take out the archers fast."

Navarre leaned further back against the pillar and shut his eyes. He had often done this before, it was an alternative to sleeping. There was few instances were he could actually sleep as much as he liked. But if it meant staying alive, he wouldn't complain.

"Horsemen! The Grustian Royal Guard!" a soldier yelled, he was stumbling a little, must've been a long run back. Several people drew back a little, they looked at each other in anxiety.

"Scared?" Navarre's even voice echoed into the silence.

Several people turned at the unfamiliar voice. Shaking his head a little Navarre bypassed them and walked to the entrance. Horsemen were indeed coming, a whole pack. They were close enough so that Navarre could see the small Grustian emblem etched on their armor. One of them fired an arrow, Navarre tilted his head a little and the shaft passed an inch over his shoulder.

Even the most organized battallion cannot stay in complete straight lines once they've started riding. As the first horseman neared Navarre ran forward and sliced, the Zanbato cut through horse, reins, leather, flesh.

Foot soldiers were mixed in with the horsemen, the Royal Guard. Navarre found himself surrounded by four soldiers. The first one swung at him and missed, Navarre back slashed swiftly moving with ease. In a flash all four soldiers lay crumpled on the ground.

Without a break in pattern Navarre casually flicked in sword cutting the saddle straps of a horsemen coming from behind. Turning he severed the rider in one fluid motion.

Out of the corner of his eye Navarre saw a flash of robes. He stopped for a half moment, just long enough to see Father Wrys being menaced by spears.

A flash of light and two soldiers crumpled to the ground.

Wrys wasted no time getting behind the lines, that warranted some respect.

"Get back to the main force!" Draug yelled. The armored knights must not be needed in the front anymore.

Shrugging Navarre complied, although the main force probably didn't need them.

Half way down the corridor he passed by a gilded gate that had been unlocked. A yell came from inside along with the clanking of armor. The thief Rickard was hunched over a chest with a General looming over him.

Navarre headed over casually, it wouldn't hurt the kid to have caution scared into him. Just as the General's lance was about to gut Rickard, Navarre pulled him back. Actually he lifted the little thief off the floor by the back of his shirt and set him to the side like a doll. Rickard was either small for his age or severely under weight, he could be lifted with one hand.

Unsheathing his Armorslayer Navarre rushed at the General. He swiftly dodged a thrust and sent for the spaces between armor plates. Two well aimed blows and the bulk of armor settled on the floor.

"Back to what you were doing." he advised Rickard.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait. Anyway I've been watching the two episodes that make up the Fire Emblem anime. If anyone has ever seen the second episode can you explain to me what Navarre's nightmare was about? I don't get it, first he was surrounded by soldiers then some woman got killed and he was pretty upset. They didn't show that he was a kid at the time or anything so I don't get it. Any clear up would be welcome.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem**

* * *

"Swordsman, I have something for you." the armsman called.

Navarre looked up and walked over to the convoy expecting a sword or a vulnerary. However instead of having a weapon tossed to him Navarre found the armsman with a horse.

"Here you are, take this horse." The armsman thrust the reins at him.

"I am not a horseman." Navarre replied dryly.

"Perhaps not but orders are orders." the armsman nodded farewell and left Navarre to contemplate his options. They were able to obtain a rough drawing of the Gra Bastian, there was a corridor to the right. Interregators have managed to find out that there was a treasure room. This being the Gradonian captial, there were sure to be vital items inside.

_"Follow Julian to the treasure stores, cut down everyone in your path. Take this Levin Sword, scouts have reported snipers guarding the vault."_

It was the first time Navarre had ever seen a magic sword, he had heard of thier existence but few ever had to the chance to wield one. He tugged at the rein of the horse, to his surprise it followed willingly, perhaps this would not be as difficult a change as he had expected.

Shouts of battle erupted, Navarre mounted the horse and headed for the western corridor.

The hall was rather dark but richly decorated with carved marble and elaborate tapestries. Navarre's gray eyes saw none of the beauty, instead he drew his sword.

"What? Did you hear something?" Julian asked.

"Nothing...just a bad feeling." Navarre answered.

The sounds of the horse hooves echoed off the walls, the silence only served as warning.

"There!" Julian shouted, he ran towards a knight guarding a turn. The thief drew his Armorslayer and attacked the guard from the side. Navarre was about to join in until he heard the clack of armor further down the hall. The hallway was narrow, if more knights were on they way, there would be little room to fight.

"Take care of this one, I'll cut them off." Navarre said, suddenly he was grateful for the horse. He sped down the hall way, coming upon the walking arsenal that was a General the horse turned violently sideways.

"Ugh!" Navarre grunted as he set an iron grip on the reins. How did social knights control these things, if there was one aspect of animals Navarre respected above all others it was their unwillingness to die for a pointless cause. Drawing his own Armorslayer he brought it down with all his might onto the General's helmet from his high vantage point.

The sword sliced through the helmet and was stuck quite firmly but the force of the heap of armor falling to the ground released the blade. Sheathing the sword Navarre slid the scabbard into the leather holder on the saddle. Riding back to the treasure store Navarre pulled out the Levin Sword.

It was far too over decorated with delicate wire vines and flowers made out of iron. The sword looked so flimsy that Navarre was tempted to hit it against the wall to see if it would break and then ask the inventor why he didn't direct the weapon to magic wielders instead of swordsmen.

"Oh look, it even comes with instructions." Navarre muttered. He held the sword up to what little light was in the hall. A fancy cursive passage in Grustian was written on the flat of the sword, luckily it was a language Navarre knew better then any other.

"Hold the sword in the direction of the sun and channel your will through the blade." Navarre read. Deciding through a cloud of annoyance that he might as well take the sword literaly he held it upwards, a faint glow and sparks came from the blade.

"You know how to use that thing?" Julian asked.

"No. I doubt any sword wielder would be skilled in magic, it would do little damage." Navarre answered.

"That mage Merric gave me this before hand, said it would help with the Levin Sword. The stuff's called Spirit Dust or something, don't remember. So just channel your will so I can get at the treasure." Julian urged swiftly his eyes darting around as if expecting dracoknights to come tearing through the ceiling.

Navarre took the tiny jar that was half filled with white powder. Holding it well away from his face he flipped the top of the jar off. Suddenly the powerder exploded with a small flash.

"A lot of good that did." Julian complained, "Magic types."

Navarre said nothing as he shoved the bottle into his jacket and reread the sword's instructions. To channel his will...

He pointed the sword as if he were trying to lob it over the wall into the treasure vault. Suddenly it felt like something had reached inside him and pulled out his innards only the pain was absent. A blast of light shot out of the sword and curved into the vault.

Suddenly an arrow sped over the wall and struck Navarre's arm leaving a deep cut. Luckily it was his right arm, the blood stained his jacket a darker red.

"Forget it, open the door." Navarre snapped.

"But there are-" Julian started to protest.

"Open it!" Navarre demanded.

As soon as the lock broke off Navarre drove the sniper through with a Killing Edge.

"Do your job, I'm rejoining the battle." Navarre turned and charged out of the cramped corridor. From what he could see the major conflict was over and the attention was turned to the mass of pegasus knights.

The winged ponies were so great in number that it looked like a swirling white cloud.

Gra Bastian had fallen.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'd like to remind you that I am following how I used the Navarre unit in my experiences with SD. In this paticular battle I didn't have him do much. But this is the only time I ever used the reclass system.


End file.
